Even An Ember Can Start A Fire
by Morningglory5510
Summary: I've never written a Joker story before, but I'm looking for feedback. Charlotte is a therapist at Arkham (unoriginal, I know) with a different outlook on things. The Joker has an immediate interest in her. When he escapes, what will become of this doctor who's captured the attention of Gotham's most wanted? I do not own anything you recognize!
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Batman, Joker, Gotham, or anything you may recognize. Charlotte is my own. First Joker story, so please leave your thoughts and critism!**

"You are not to try to rehabilitate him; there is no saving him. Your job is to go in and listen to what he tells you, ask the questions that have been provided for you to ask. Don't give him any personal information, he'll get inside your head before you know what you've done. Having a therapist is all for the public. We have to make it look like we're trying to make some progress with him. We're not. I've lost too many good people because they listened to him. His previous therapist was checked into the lower parts of the asylum last night. Now, I'm not saying all this to try and scare you...no, actually, I am. If you don't think you can handle it, tell me now. I've had bigger men than you succumb to his mind games. No? Alright then, here we are. Steve, give her half an hour to start. Ms. Rayne, good luck."

Charlotte Rayne stood in front of a large white door feeling only slightly intimidated. She knew what she was getting into before the lecture on the way down here and was ready for everything Mr. Arkham told her. Charlotte was not a dumb girl, she researched everything about this asylum, about her new patient, and about his previous therapists. She was pretty sure she knew what she was getting into.

A burly man in a long white coat, now known as Steve, stood to the left of the door, arms folded across his chest. He wore a frown. Hard, slanted eyebrows shadowed hazel, mean eyes. When she looked up at him, he moved to unlock the door.

Charlotte nodded to him and he pulled the door open slightly.

"Half an hour," he told her.

"To start with," Charlotte replied. "I'll tell you if I need more."

She started to walk through the door, but was jerked back by a large hand on her shoulder.

"You're not to try to rehabilitate him," Steve said. His eyes stared into her own, trying to get the point across.

"I heard the lecture," Charlotte said coolly.

She swept passed him and into the therapy room, the door swinging shut in her wake.

The first thing she noticed upon entering was the state of the room, which could make the most sane person go crazy. It was entirely concrete with no paint or anything to liven the walls and nothing on the floors as cushion from the hard rock. Bright lights hung from the ceiling making a dull buzzing sound that was already annoying and in her head. One table stood in the center of the room and two chairs occupied it, one pushed farther away from the table - out of reach.

This was when Charlotte noticed the person taking up said chair. Old make-up caked his face, given only because when it was taken away he managed to slit a nurse's throat and use _her_ blood as face paint. It was streaked with sweat and maybe rubbed off in his sleep and pieces of his real face showed through. His hair was a dull green, greasy and matted. He obviously hadn't showered in a while. He was wearing a plain white straight-jacket, wrapping his arms around his body. His feet were shackled to the floor so he couldn't move.

As she was studying him, he was also making his own judgments about her. Charlotte was dressed in a nice women's suit today and high-heeled shoes that were a little wobbly on the concrete floor. Her black hair was up in a bun so she wouldn't have to deal with it falling into her eyes while she was working. Her face was heart-shaped with blue eyes and a small, upturned nose. Her lips fit the rest of her face nicely. She was average height and seemed built in some way, but she looked fragile and easily breakable.

Charlotte moved to the chair nearest the table and sat down, smiling easily at her patient.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Charlotte Rayne," she introduced.

The man across from her grinned, looking up at her from under his eyebrows. "_**H**_i," he replied.

"Isn't it proper to introduce yourself as well?" Charlotte asked.

He flipped his green hair and leaned forward as much as his current position allowed him to.

"_**I'm**_ the **Joker**," he said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Joker," Charlotte greeted, feeling that the usual approach to a man like him would get her nowhere. Perhaps starting out as if everything was normal would be a good way to begin her work.

After all, why would he want to talk to her if she treated him like he was insane? Every other person he'd been with wanted to poke and prod at him, to cure him, to find out what was going on inside him head and he _killed_ them. Maybe a different approach to this situation could save her life. Maybe she was simply wasting her time.

The Joker grinned and sat back in his chair as if he wasn't in a straight jacket in a concrete cell. If she didn't know any better, she might say that this conversation was on his terms and that they weren't in an asylum at all. They could have been meeting for the first time at a coffee shop, the way he was acting.

"The pleasure is all _mine_, Charlotte," he replied, smacking his lips before his tongue darted out to lick them.

Charlotte almost asked him to call her Doctor, but she didn't think that would go over very well. Being on a first name basis with him wasn't exactly what she was hoping for, but whatever made him comfortable, she supposed would have to do.

When she didn't immediately respond to his statement, the Joker continued, "_Char_, **Ch**uck, _**Charlie**_. Do you like the name Charlie? I think it fits you rather nicely."

At this, Charlotte could no longer let him go on.

"I'd prefer it if you called me Dr. Rayne or Charlotte, if that makes you more comfortable," she told him.

Joker licked the corner of his mouth and nodded his head, "Oh, sure, sure. C_harlotte_ it is then."

She was thankful that he didn't make a big deal over the name. This wasn't nearly as bad as what they'd made it out to be. Yet. It was still only her first day, not even the first half hour and he was probably testing her, pushing her limits like a child seeing how far they could go with a substitute teacher. He would want to know how far he could go before he could break her.

"Thank you," Charlotte said, looking down at the file she'd placed on the table.

The Joker cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to speak again.

"Now, I'm sure you didn't come here just to chit-chat, although I wouldn't be opposed," he laughed. "You _are _my new _therapist_."

Charlotte finished looking over her papers and faced the mad-man readily, shrugging her shoulders.

"What would you like to talk about?" she asked.

Joker rolled his head as he thought about this, taking the question to heart before answering it. His tongue darted out to slide over his lips again and he chewed on the inside of his cheeks where his scars were.

"Let's talk about you," he answered. "Why are you here? Why is a **pretty **thing like you interested in talking to _some_one like _me_?"

This was a dangerous topic and Charlotte shook her head, "No, I want to talk about you today. Maybe we'll talk about me tomorrow."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Everyone always wants to hear about _**me**_. I'm not _pretty_ or _kind_ like** you**, but no one wants to talk about those things. What do you _want_ to hear me say?"

"Tell me something about yourself, just one thing no one else has ever heard before and then you don't have to talk about anything else today," Charlotte compromised.

It gave the man pause and he thought about it for a second, before nodding.

"And then _you'll_ tell _me_ something about you, **something **I don't already know or can **guess**," he told her.

Charlotte thought over this addition to the compromise, but she didn't really see a way out of it so she agreed.

The Joker flashed a grin, showing his yellowed teeth for a moment before he paused to think over what he would tell her. Charlotte wondered if he would tell her something worth while or if he would make up a lie. She'd heard of the stories he made up about his scars; they always changed and were only told before he murdered a person. That was one story she would wait to ask him about, for sure.

Teeth nawed on too red lips until they looked like they were about to bleed. Joker's black eyes watched her, sizing her up and contemplating what he would tell.

"My birth name was _no__**t**_ the Joker," he finally stated.

Disappointed, Charlotte sighed, "Everyone knows that."  
"Tut! I wasn't finish_ed_," Joker reprimanded. "It did start with a J."

Not nearly as much as she might've hoped for, the therapist was happy with this as a start. She grinned just a little at having this information.

"_Your turn, __**Charlie**_," Joker reminded, once again leaning forward in his chair.

Charlotte almost reminded him of her earlier request to be called by a proper name, but decided to ignore it. Being annoyed with the nickname might just be asking for him to use it more. Now she had bigger things to think about anyway, like what she would tell him about herself.

Across from her, Joker waggled his eyebrows in anticipation of her answer.

At last, she decided what she would tell him and she smiled a little because she was using his answer and turning it back on him.

"My birth name is Charlotte Ember Rayne."


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Batman, Joker, Gotham, or anything you may recognize. Charlotte is my own. First Joker story, so please leave your thoughts and critism!**

There was a slight pause in the conversation as he mulled this over. He really seemed to be weighing things in his mind. Charlotte did not interrupt him, remembering that she wasn't technically supposed to be giving out personal information and that she'd promised him that this would be the end of their first meeting. None of this really mattered because if he cared about her middle name, he'd figure it out anyway and he didn't demand to leave the session at all.

After some time of turning this new information around in his brain, the Joker finally looked up at his doctor and a smile slowly spread across his face. Bigger men than Charlotte had shook with fear under this crazed expression, but Ms. Rayne just gave her own smile back. This only made Joker happier.

"_Em_ber," he said, the name resonating around the room. "_Ember __**Rayne**_. I like **it**, I _do_. Ever thought of going by your middle name, **Chuck**?"

"No," Charlotte answered honestly. She ignored his use of the nicknames again.

The short answer did not bother the mad-man at all.

"How old are you, _Em_ber **Rayne**?" Joker inquired.

Charlotte shook her head, "We agreed to one thing you didn't know or couldn't guess."

Joker's eyebrows pulled harshly over his dark eyes, making him look like a monster out of a horror movie. His mood suddenly seemed to change from buoyant to angry. Charlotte was struck by the abruptness of this shift in personality, but the anger was gone almost as soon as it'd come.

"Right," he agreed.

His tongue flickered out over his lips as he breathed heavily and stared at her from across the table.

"_Nex__**t**_time," he told her.

Just then, the door opened and the guard, Steve glared in at them.

"Time's up," the man said, his voice gruff.

Charlotte thought he was lucky that the session was finished anyway or he would've seen what it was like to upset her. As it was, she glared back at him and took her time gathering her files from the table. She'd written nothing down, like most phsycatrists usually did. Instead, she made sure that she remembered everything they spoke about. She decided that she would write it down later instead of in front of the Joker like he was just a test subject.

"That's fine," Charlotte replied to Steve. "We're just finishing up."

Steve glared at her back as she turned away from him.

"So I guess we'll pick up tomorrow," Charlotte told the Joker.

He grinned at her as he caught the way she was annoying his guard.

"_Sounds_ good," he replied.

Steve stepped in then, grabbing Joker's arm and hauling him to his feet.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't manhandle my patients," Charlotte spoke as she observed the roughness with which Joker was treated.

Steve stopped to raise his eyebrows at the new woman. It was obvious that he didn't appreciate the demands she was giving.

"No rehabilitation," he told her.

"Welfare of my patients," she started, "is not rehabilitation. It is simply being a doctor."

The guard continued to glare at her, nudging the Joker before him to walk out the door of the stone therapy room. Though it wasn't kind, Charlotte was pleased to see the push was not as rough as it might've been.

"Have a good night, Mr. Joker," Charlotte said.

Joker laughed breathlessly as he stopped in the doorway, "And you too, _Dr. __**Rayne**_."

With that he was gone, down the hallways toward his cell. Not a lot was revealed during their time, but then not a lot could've with the short amount that was given them. With what they did have, and considering it was only her first day, Charlotte felt that much had been accomplished. She felt good about it and was able to get ready for her next patient feeling very satisfied with the way things turned out.

At the end of the day, Charlotte returned home with the same feeling of satisfaction. Her schedule was filled with all sorts of interesting people, most of which weren't crazy killers. In fact, her most drastic patient was the Joker. Everyone else was fairly easy, coming from the lower, calmer levels of the asylum. She supposed it made sense because the Joker was such a taxing case and besides, the worse ones would need a more stable therapist than the many that worked with the Joker.

Charlotte drove away from the asylum with her bag of files and notes beside her. Other doctors kept them in their offices at Arkham, but she felt that the place was not as secure as some might want to make it appear. Besides, she wanted to add some things that she didn't want anybody looking at while she wasn't around.

Her home was closer to the city of Gotham. It was a safer neighborhood, but there were the occassional break-ins and the like. Crime could not be kept completely away. Still, the place was perfect for the young doctor's needs and she liked it well enough.

When she arrived in the apartment complex's parking lot, she pulled into her spot and parked her car. The sky was dark as night had fallen while she was working. Stars were non-existant here because of the lights of the city. It was the one thing that bothered her about her chosen home. It made her feel claustrophobic, but there was nothing to be done about it. She made her way into the building with her bag thrown over her shoulder.

The apartment was silent as she locked the door behind her and flipped on the light. Her neighbors were asleep or getting ready for bed. She took her time, letting herself relax as she splayed out on the couch in her living room.

What Charlotte wanted to do was go over the events of her interview with the Joker, but her stomach had other plans. She stood and made her way to the kitchen. It wasn't very stocked, as she didn't care much for cooking and preparing food, but there were a few microwave dinners in the freezer which she decided to have. Picking a Pepsi out of the fridge, she listened to the fizz as she twisted open the cap before taking a large drink.

When she was finished with her small dinner, Charlotte returned to the couch where her notes awaited her. She sat with the files splayed out on the coffee table before her. Immediately, she began to recall what she'd discussed with the Joker. Truly, there was not a lot that had been revealed. All that was, she wrote carefully into a blue notebook of her own. This did not go with the rest of her notes. In the official files, she wrote some nonsense partially drawn from her actual experiences, but not enough to be completely true. For some reason, she wanted to keep a secret what transpired between her and Joker.

This breach of protocal wasn't usual behavior for Charlotte. All of her other files were kept in perfect order exactly as they were supposed to. Everything about her job with the Joker was different, though.

After finishing with her files, the woman wandered to her bathroom, washed, and readied for bed. She laid down feeling conflicted and somehow oddly soothed. Charlotte couldn't wait to go back to Arkham the next day. When she fell asleep, it was with the Joker's face in her mind's eye and his voice, saying variations of her name, in her ears.


End file.
